


See, Jon.

by quantumducky



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Referenced Childhood Trauma, Season/Series 05, episode 173
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: There's a very good reason for Jon's post-apocalypse vents. Without them, the fear of others builds up in his mind until it takes him over, one way or another.The statement of Night Street is held back just a little too long. There are consequences.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 215





	See, Jon.

There’s a very good reason Jon has to stop in every domain they pass through and speak its statement into a recorder. It’s not something he’s ever explained to Martin, not fully, at least. He doesn’t see any point. Martin knows this is what he needs to do, and Jon suspects it would only make him unhappy to learn why- that if he doesn’t vent it out, the fear of the victims around him fills up his head until it’s all he can think about, until he’s consumed by it one way or another. Martin doesn’t want to hear the statements themselves, Jon reasons, so he wouldn’t want to hear that, either. And he doesn’t need to. They’ve been fine so far, Martin waiting far enough away to avoid hearing while Jon does what he needs to.

Except, in the Dark, that isn’t what happens. Jon doesn’t want to dwell on what happens here any more than absolutely necessary. He thinks, if they walk quickly and don’t stop for anything, he can make it through without. Equally, or possibly even more, he doesn’t want to let go of Martin’s hand if he can help it. Of course he would be able to find him again if he wandered off- but he can’t see here, or at least, not as well as elsewhere. The Dark can’t hide anything from the Eye anymore, but it certainly tries. He would have to  _ know _ him, if they were separated, and he promised not to do that, didn’t he? It would be bad. Jon has been trying so hard to be good.

Only, Martin won’t just  _ accept _ it. He keeps pushing. He says he wants to know what this domain is, even though Jon is pretty sure he won’t appreciate the knowledge when he has it.  _ Jon _ sure doesn’t appreciate the knowledge. When he’s been holding in the vent this long already, it’s hard to think clearly through all the childish fear swirling in his mind to argue the point. Shouting at Martin won’t help anything, but he’s too distracted to figure out what will, and he wishes he would just  _ drop it _ and let him explain once they’re somewhere that isn’t here.

“Can we  _ please _ just move on?” he asks, one last time, desperate. He knows it’s the last time, because if Martin asks again, he won’t be able to hold back the answer. The pressure in his head is too strong. A child screams somewhere in the distance, and Martin freezes.

“Jon, where have you brought us?”

Jon opens his mouth to tell him, but before he can say a word, his voice breaks into a sob. He claps a hand over his mouth, eyes suddenly wide and afraid, and runs away into the Dark.

This, you see, is what he didn’t tell Martin. If he doesn’t vent out the miasma of other people’s fear as a statement, it builds and builds until it’s all he can think of, and he has a choice. It’s a terrible choice, but when is it not, for him? He can feed on it, revel in it, or… he can feel it, and the Eye can feed on  _ him. _ And Jon refuses to feed on the fear and suffering of literal children.

* * *

“Jon?  _ Jon!” _ Martin goes from frustrated to terrified in an instant. “Jon, where are you?”

It isn’t even  _ that _ dark, really, no more than it would normally be on a night with no moon, but he just… disappeared. Like the place is hiding him from Martin, and oh, doesn’t  _ that _ send a chill through him. Because, right, what had happened the  _ last _ time something wanted them apart? Nothing good. Martin still seems to be immune to the fear of this place, at least. He’s more upset by the idea of  _ children _ being trapped here than he is actually scared by it. The only thing scaring him right now is not knowing where Jon has gone, or why, or generally what the hell just happened.

He isn’t going to find him just standing here, though. He swears under his breath, then picks up the bag Jon left behind and starts walking with a purpose in the direction he thinks he went.

There doesn’t seem to be any point in trying the doors of the houses that line the street. Whoever is in there, they probably won’t even notice if Martin knocks or tries to talk to them. It’s not how these things work. And… and he sees a few of them, this place’s victims. Always at a distance, and always cloaked in the darkness that feeds on them, but… there’s a sick certainty growing in his mind that they’re  _ all _ kids. That’s what Jon didn’t want to tell him. …Or, to put it a less pleasant way, what he tried to make Jon tell him about. When Martin finds him, he’s going to apologize. He had no idea.

He’s not sure how long he spends walking down the street before he finds Jon. After the first few minutes, Martin stopped calling his name. The shadow monsters aren’t for him, but there’s no reason to push his luck when it wasn’t getting him any response anyway. So he moves quietly, and sees Jon before Jon sees him.

Jon is tucked behind some bushes in front of a house, hiding and watching the door. He’s poised like he’s ready to spring to his feet at any moment, and his arms are wrapped around his own chest in an attempt at comfort, and when Martin walks a little closer, he sees that his entire body is tensed almost to the point of shaking. He realizes he hasn’t seen Jon look this  _ scared _ since they left the cabin, and it worries him badly.

Then, as he watches, Jon bites his lip and turns to look behind him- and the door opens. His head whips forward again in time to see one of the Dark creatures peeking out and looking at him, reaching for him with spindly long arms. He muffles a scream with his hand and scrambles back and to his feet. By the time Martin catches up with him again, he’s in the alley behind the house, huddled in the gap between a fence and some bins. Both his hands are pressed over his mouth and he is crying. His eyes flit over the darkness around him, but he doesn’t appear to see Martin until he’s right in front of him and crouching down to the same level.

“Jon?”

Jon’s eyes snap to him as he flinches, pressing his back against the fence. “Who are you?” he whispers fiercely. “What do you want?”

There’s no  _ power _ in the questions, though, and it’s almost more worrying than all the rest of this. Like Jon has forgotten how to do what should be reflexive.

Okay. Martin isn’t  _ sure _ what’s going on here, but it’s clear enough Jon is scared and… not exactly anchored in the present. It seems very much like he’s somehow been reverted to a younger version of himself, maybe thanks to all the childish fears surrounding them. Martin is  _ really _ going to owe him an apology after this. For now, he holds his hands up soothingly. “My name is Martin. I want… I just want to help, okay? What happened back there?”

Jon scowls. “You won’t believe me if I tell you. No one ever believes me. You’re going to say I’m making things up for attention.”

“I won’t say anything like that, I promise.”

He hesitates, looking hopeful for a second, but then he glances down and curls in on himself a little more. As closed off as he is, though, something in his subconscious must have decided that as long as Martin is here, there’s no need to scan for danger. That’s a good sign.

“There was a monster, right?” he prompts. “I saw it.”

“Really?” Jon perks up with his entire body. “I mean, yes. Obviously. If there weren’t a monster what would I be  _ running _ from?” He hesitates and looks back. “…Did it follow me?”

“No, it stayed inside the house. You’re safe.”

Jon nods, sighing in relief. It only lasts a second, though, before he mumbles, “I have to go back.”

“What? Why? You got away, didn’t you?”

_ “This _ time,” he says like it ought to be obvious, “but it’s hardly going to just stay there forever, is it? I know where it  _ is _ right now. If it leaves and I don’t see it, it could… it could be anywhere. So I, I have to go back and watch the door, o-or it might come out and get me when I’m not looking.” He stands, shaky, and brushes himself off. “Thank you for believing me,” he adds quietly, and then starts back toward the front of the house like he’s going to his own execution.

Martin thinks better of it just before grabbing his wrist. He hurries to get in front of him instead. “Jon, wait- you, you don’t have to do this.”

Jon looks at him uncomprehending.

“We can leave, okay? We can-”

“No. It wouldn’t work. Sorry.” He brushes past, and Martin finds he can’t quite grasp him, like he’s on a slightly different plane. There’s a hopeless look on his face, blending fear and exhaustion into something absolutely heartbreaking, and all Martin can do is follow him. He curls up behind the bushes, right where he was before, and goes back to staring at the door.

Martin walks around the side of the house and bites his hand to keep from screaming. He doesn’t know what to  _ do. _ It’s clear enough that the Dark has tapped Jon’s  _ actual _ childhood monster encounter to get him in this loop, but that doesn’t exactly give him any hints as to how he can break him out of it. Jon isn’t going to take him at his word that none of this is real when he doesn’t even remember Martin properly. And how did this end in real life? Someone  _ died. _ Martin wouldn’t want to orchestrate  _ that _ to break the cycle even if he thought he could. But when he goes up to Jon again, his eyes are glazed over and he doesn’t even seem to notice him.

Right. Desperate times. He’s  _ pretty _ sure this place still can’t hurt him.

Jon snaps out of his trance when Martin marches up to the door and knocks.

“No!” he whisper-shouts from his hiding place, “no no no, you can’t-” but it’s too late for that. The door opens a crack, then a little more, and a thing made of shadows looks Martin up and down. If it can be said to have an expression at all, he’d call it disappointed. Still, it reaches out and tries to wrap its tendrils around his limbs. To Martin’s relief, they’re about as effective at dragging him into the house as would be expected from your average shadow. It tickles a bit.

It’s… possible that Jon is seeing something a little different. He screams and jumps up, running to Martin. He grabs his hand and drags him back from the door. “You can’t have him,” he snarls at the monster. “Leave him alone, I- I  _ see _ you!”

The creature doesn’t even make a sound as it dissipates into the darkness around it. Martin could almost believe it was never there at all.

Jon looks up at him, eyes wide and starting to fill up with tears again. “A-are, are you okay?”

“It didn’t hurt me.” He opens his arms, and hardly blinks before Jon is clinging to his shirt and crying into his shoulder. “Oh, Jon. I know. Are  _ you _ okay? You did so well, love. It’s not going to bother you again.” Maybe if he says it confidently, that will make it definitely true. That might as well be how the world works anymore.

He’s in no fit state to answer now, just shakes his head and holds on tighter. Martin rubs his back until he calms down a little. Hopefully, nothing else will step in to frighten him. Eventually he lifts his head a bit and asks, in a small voice, “Can we leave now?”

“Of course.” Martin picks up their bags from where he left them by the side of the house. He quietly decides against making Jon carry anything right now and shoulders them both himself. When he straightens again, Jon grabs his hand immediately. “Come on- let’s get out of this place.”

Jon is plastered to Martin’s side the entire way through the Dark domain. He looks around suspiciously every so often, but there’s more anger in it than fear now. Almost a challenge. Eventually, the street ends and the sickly pseudo-light of the Eye returns, and Jon immediately turns and throws his arms around Martin’s neck. In combination with the bags he’s already carrying, this nearly knocks him over. “Sorry,” Jon mumbles. “I, uh, I can take one of those back now.”

Martin hands it over with a fair amount of relief. “Are you- back?”

“Mostly?” Jon makes a face when he realizes he’s going to have to articulate what that means. “I… have all my memories again, and everything. It’s just that I still feel sort of… small. I…” His voice breaks, and he scoffs while wiping at his eyes. “I think I need a few minutes,” he admits. “Before I can… keep going.”

“Over here.” He finds a patch of ground that doesn’t look likely to do anything too unpleasant, and they sit. Jon climbs into Martin’s lap without really thinking about it. He flushes a little when he realizes, but by then Martin already has his arms around him, so he leans into his chest instead of moving away. “I’m sorry for pushing you. I didn’t realize…” he trails off, several different endings implied.

Jon laughs quietly. “Well, you also  _ saved _ me, so I think I can forgive you.”

“Still. We aren’t, uh, very good at communicating, are we?”

“We can work on it,” he sighs, a little slurred. If sleep were still possible, Martin thinks Jon would have been out by now. “I… I’ll get up soon, I just…”

Martin breathes in and out until he’s not tempted to challenge the Eye to a duel for Jon’s right to take a damn nap. He’s been keeping the usual urge to take care of him pretty well locked down, since it’s neither a priority nor really  _ possible _ in the world where they’ve found themselves, but what happened back in the Dark has apparently brought it back full force. “I know, love. Rest as much as you can, you… look like you really need it.”

“Thanks,” says Jon dryly, and Martin sighs that it wasn’t supposed to be an  _ insult, _ and Jon smiles, and more of his eyes are closed than he’s managed in a good while. They’re probably going to need to talk about this, more than the little they have just now. And they’re going to have to get up and keep moving, and they won’t be ready, because they never are. If Martin has anything to say about it, though, it can wait just a little longer while Jon gets a break. It’s not like the apocalypse is going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> this is largely unedited because i was afraid i'd get too self-conscious and not be able to post it so tell me if i fucked up a verb tense somewhere or the like


End file.
